Dancing with Death

Chapter 7

Fluttering her eyes open, Angela's vision adjusted to the dark. A Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the living room television, Randy dozed off with his back pressed against the sofa she was stretched out along. Straining her ears, she listened closely for the sound that'd awoken her. Delicately sliding off of the sofa as not to awake Randy, she tip-toed over to the dining room archway.

Paired with the eerie Nightmare on Elm Street soundtrack blaring from her television, Angela's breathing staggered. A shot of cold air breezed through the dining room, ruffling the heavy drapes, signaling to her the veranda doors were cracked. Slinking into the darkness, her eyes made out the vague shape of a bouquet of flowers.

Approaching them, she slid one from the plastic wrap and examined the thorny stem. Deep, red roses. What kind of burglar left roses on her dining room table? Gently pushing the double veranda doors open, Angela's fear melted into utter joy.

The wide veranda of her home overlooked the scenic California hills, where there was nothing but trees for miles and miles, with the exception of the orange glow of a home in the distance. A few gray clouds hovered in front of the half moon, but the gentle glow of the moon paired with the twinkling of stars lit Billy's face up wondrously.

"It occurred to me you might come looking for trouble."

Biting her lip, her cheeks daintily flushed in a rosy shade. Her eyes darted down. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He said smoothly, lifting a cool hand to her neck. "They couldn't trace the call."

"I was nervous."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to get caught, Billy."

The inexplicable concern she had for him arose a smile. "Don't worry about me."

His fingers slid upwards to her cheek, caressing her almost. A rolling wave of heat traveled up her neck, his eyes flitting to her lips. Billy saw the vulnerability sparkling in Angela's pretty features. He'd seen it from the first time he spoke to her in class. His jaw clenched tightly.

Leaning down, his mouth met hers. It was a way she'd never been kissed before. His lips pressed against hers with purpose, intention. Every inch of her was set ablaze, leaning into the kiss. Billy jerked her closer, her rising and falling chest clutched to his own. Each kiss was more ravenous than the last. Keenly holding her, his breath caught at the small moan that emanated her soft lips.

Angela returned the hungry demand in his kiss, to his surprise. She'd wanted this just as bad as he had, if not more. Shuddering under him; he was swift to drop his hands to her backside, easing her into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his torso, he lifted her effortlessly. A shallow breath caught in her throat, he spun her around to press open the french doors. All the while, their lips remained in unison.

Laying her down on the glass table top of the dining room table, Angela wound her legs tighter around him, and her fingers intertwined in his slick hair. Letting his name escape her lips, he positioned himself on top of her, groaning against the silky curve of her neck. Reaching a hand beneath her slip, he toyed with the waistband of her underwear. Angela was like a drug to Billy, and he wanted to overdose.

All of a sudden, he tore himself away from her, reaching behind her back to ease her into a sitting position between his legs. Reeling from the fire that had just ravaged her, she struggled to settle herself down. Billy raked a hand through his hair, slicking it back down. Her heart still pumping, Angela reached up to tame her own hair.

"Why'd you stop?" She gasped.

He chuckled at this. He hadn't wanted to, but he couldn't bring himself take advantage of Angela. On a far more serious note, he cleared his throat. "Tell me something, Ang."